Capítulo 967: Chapter 946: Son of the Arena
The Old Era, Global World – [Pan-Asian]
This is a world with an advanced level of technology, diverse systems, and abundant resources.
Although people here can pursue system developnt, because they don’t need to worry much about material life, they always have a trendous spiritual pursuit.
Ultimately, a unique form of duel entertainnt evolved here.
Duel arenas were built all over the world, and even at the world’s center, a supre duel area was created for entertainnt.
Participants are subject to strict restrictions,
they must be ordinary individuals without a system, maintaining the most primitive and direct conflict.
Those ordinary people who cannot open a system, or those alien beings captured during the world’s expansion, as long as they have no system, they are sent to the duel arena.
Anyone can place a bet, and the winner must slaughter the loser, there are no draws, no rcy.
The people of the world are all imrsed in this extre and primitive slaughter activity, and those outstanding slaves can even be sold for sky-high prices.
Today, in an inconspicuous duel arena.
Perhaps due to a lack of applications, or the organizers deliberately drawing attention, one of the gladiators happens to be a pregnant woman.
Her dark skin reflects a resolute gaze.
Yet, her eyes are not on her opponent, but on the spectators placing bets and the organizers.
Her opponent is a grown gladiator holding a sword and shield,
As a mother, she fights desperately, but due to her physical burden and the gap in strength, no miracle occurs.
Swish! A sword slices open her body,
from the scapula all the way down to the abdon,
blood spurts out, her abdon cracks open.
It was thought that the fetus inside would die together, but unexpectedly, within this guilt-ridden duel arena, the cry of a baby was heard.
The mother, who should have died, surprisingly opened her eyes wide, moved her body to hold the child, and whispered sothing in the baby’s ear as her final words.
The scene caused all the spectators to rise from their seats,
even the brutal gladiator put down his sword and lifted the unexpectedly born baby.
The organizers naturally would not miss such a near-miraculous opportunity, promptly sending soone to raise the baby and heavily publicizing the event.
They referred to the baby as the [Son of the Arena] and nad him “Luosanthus”.
Ten years have passed.
The once baby has grown into a child,
branded with the duel tag since birth, destined to spend life in the arena for however long that life may be.
On his tenth birthday,
he stepped onto the arena for the first ti.
Due to advance promotion, this rather small duel arena was surprisingly packed.
The organizers needed to ensure this money maker would win, so his first match was against a relatively small beast, pre-injected with muscle-relaxing agents.
Just normal performance would easily allow him to slaughter the beast,
but,
Luosanthus’s performance was disappointing, even a weakened beast he struggled to defeat, managing a narrow victory after losing an entire arm.
The audience booed continuously, the hype around the Son of the Arena failed to flourish on ti, and the buzz dwindled.
The arena’s owner, holding a cash-out attitude, spent money to reattach Luosanthus’s arm.
This ti, they scheduled him against a sixteen-year-old, the current most Potential newcor of the arena. Six years apart, their physical developnt was entirely different, and their training experiences were entirely different too.
The owner’s plan was simple,
since this Son of the Arena had no potential, it might as well be fed to the most Potential newcor to shift the attention.
A significant number of people ca to the scene, and so clever individuals naturally saw through the owner’s design.
For this unfair duel, nearly all the spectators bet on the sixteen-year-old Potential newcor, but…
The golden-haired youth’s head was held high,
the ten-year-old Luosanthus stood in the center of the field, achieving hard-fought victory at the cost of losing multiple slabs of flesh.
Completely beyond expectations,
his performance was entirely different from the previous match,
being only ten years old, he managed to achieve such a feat.
The title of [Son of the Arena] was thus forged.
In every subsequent duel, he consistently won, no matter how fierce the alien beast or battle-hardened the gladiator he faced.
Strangely,
The strength of so opponents was obviously vastly different, yet Losantos always won with difficulty, suffering severe injuries in almost every duel.
As his fa grew,
twenty-year-old Losantos went to the world’s largest Duel Arena, where executives from various companies and even so leaders watched the battle.
Still, he remained undefeated, winning every battle.
A large fan base erupted nationwide, viewing Losantos as the God of Gladiators, with graffiti, leaflets, websites, and even sculptures seen everywhere.
This fervor caught the attention of the world’s top echelons, who saw this gladiator as a disruption to balance and a major hidden threat to social stability.
In their eyes, gladiation was re entertainnt; once it reached the level of social stability, it had to be addressed personally.
A special duel was imdiately arranged.
The opponent was no longer a gladiator but a System Ability User arranged by the world’s top echelons, akin to Earth investigators.
This system gap wasn’t sothing physical training could bridge. No matter how strong the gladiator, they’d be annihilated in an instant.
The duel comnced as scheduled,
a man in white attire, wielding a Particle Light Saber, entered the arena with a face full of disdain.
He controlled his speed within normal human limits and swiftly advanced, swinging the sword at Losantos’s head.
However.
The opponent surprisingly dodged and with even greater speed, grasped his neck.
Realizing sothing was wrong, the man stopped disguising and released his ability; electric currents surged, directly charring Losantos’s body.
Thinking it was all over,
who knew, the charred arm still clutched his throat while the other hand swung a sword, beheading him.
Losantos won, still holding the head high.
The duel site erupted with an unprecedented roar, a feat never achieved before by killing a Power User with a mortal body.
Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, the world’s top echelons decided to root it out in secret.
They dispatched an assassination team capable of intergalactic strikes, having successfully decapitated other civilizations many tis.
But this ti, they failed.
Losantos, covered in blood, walked out of the Rest Room, which was filled with the bodies of the ambushers.
A whole two thousand years passed,
a large world called [Pan-Asian], a premium world watched by the Prison Director, was wiped out by one man.
The reason it took so long was that Losantos didn’t understand any abilities and could only kill people slowly, one by one.
This was his mother’s dying wish, heard only at birth but engraved in his genes.
Such prolonged killing also made him feel bored, lacking the initial thrill of becoming a gladiator, only monotony.
No matter how strong the opponent, he could always be slightly stronger.
As a result, for any opponent, he always had to exert all his strength to kill them, which was too ti-consuming. Knowing he would win yet winning with difficulty, winning slowly, winning boringly.
So much so that when the Prison Director ca to arrest him personally, Losantos didn’t resist at all.
He felt no interest in duels, wanted to be locked up so he could daze, rest, and do his own things.
As an ordinary person, he was confined in the simplest cell of the Central Prison.
Lying on a soft big bed, no longer needing to contemplate combat, he suddenly discovered that there seed to be sothing nad Divine Status inside him, and unknowingly, it had reached an Upper Position.
An ill will nad [Laziness] was growing in his Divine Status,
he just felt so tired, after all, he had been in constant battles since birth, and most opponents were quite uninteresting.
He stayed quietly in the prison, neither causing trouble nor cooperating with the Prison Director.
Just staying there, until the Prison Director died. He responded to the distant red call just to have a little less trouble and more ti to rest.
Even when he t Luo Di, he still just wanted to stall for ti until the red descended.
But… things beca a little different.
His right side was completely torn apart,
he suddenly rembered when he first stepped into the Duel Arena,
rembered the first beast he faced,
rembered the na shouted by the audience, a na almost forgotten due to laziness—his na.
“Losantos, Son of the Arena.”
The right side of his body, which should have been conceptually erased, ford out of thin air, outlined by cosmic lines, forcibly reconstructed.
Even if the opponent was the ninth-ranked Death Row Inmate, he would still be slightly stronger…
Losantos showed a smile,
a smile of wanting to win, a proud smile, a smile belonging to the strongest gladiator.
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